THE EDGE OF VICTORY
by marthasville
Summary: An alternate path taken by Scarlett after the STAIRS scene in the movie. She and Rhett have an all-out battle of wits, manipulation, seduction and surrender to win the ultimate prize--each other's heart.
1. Musk and Rose Water

_Disclaimer: I do not own GWTW or its characters. They belong to the wonderful, illustrious Margaret Mitchell, whom I greatly admire not only for her fascinating writing style, but for giving a brutally honest voice and life to the most memorable characters in fictional literature._

_This story takes off from the movie after the night Rhett carries her off a flight of stairs into the darkness. It explores an alternate path taken by the headstrong, self-centered heroine of the story, Scarlett O'Hara Butler. Her motivations have always been inspired by selfish desires, but pitted against one, Rhett Butler, whose selfish desire outmatches her own, the playing field becomes an all-out competition of wits, manipulation, seduction and surrender to win the ultimate prize—each other's true love. _

_I hope you enjoy the story, and feel free to comment on what you liked and didn't. _

The Edge of Victory

Musk and Rose Water

After he left her there, in her enormous suite to be tormented by the thought of Divorce, she tried as she might to blot out the absurd proposal by forcing herself to return to sleep, willing their conversation to be nothing more than a bad dream. However, the reality of last night was the dream that kept invading her thoughts, instead. The reminiscent scent of brandy, and of musk, intermingled with rose water lingered in her sheets. The room seemed to be suddenly suffused with it, her mind escaping, unlikely.

A quick surrender came as easily as the assault to her senses. It was utterly heavenly, she thought. Then repudiated those thoughts before she let it run away with her, as far gone and deep within they already were.

_There could be more of those_, she thought. _There could be so much more!_ Igniting in her a resolve to have claim to it any time she pleased—to Rhett and his passion, the same passion that enslaved him through the long hours of the dark enveloping night.

_Could there be more?_ She asked. The challenge made on herself. Answering to her elevated mood and ego she said,

"_I've charmed the men of an entire county! Make that three, to be exact. Rhett is just one man. He will not undermine me with a divorce. A weak threat, at that. No! Rhett will never leave. And he'll be sorry he ever thought of it, once I take care of him. He'll see." _

After all Katie Scarlett O'Hara was the true blue belle of Clayton County, the only one left in existence! All deserving of the most arduous, passionate and romantic coquetry by the mere warrant of her perfect charms. There had been no one but Ashley, who was like her, qualified in that area. Patient as she saw herself to be, she started to exhibit how ghastly tired she was of trying to understand her paramour, waiting for nuggets of affection from Ashley, until last night. A most welcomed stranger, was found—of all places—in her bed! Along with a more intriguing mystery to unravel. A man holding the mundane title of husband, held nothing back at all, giving no semblance of an honorable man everyone knew he never was. Yet her heated mind couldn't shake the memory, coursing the nerves of her skin, about the night Rhett spent honoring her body in shameless appreciation, devotion, and dare she think—worship.

As she readied herself, pausing with intervals of trepidation as to why she was moving feverishly, it was a wave of interesting thoughts that moved her efforts forward. First, she was shocked at herself—her uninhibited actions that could put to shame, possibly Belle Watling herself, remembering the surprise in her husband's face. She pulled out a dress from the closet, relishing the memory of Rhett's face doused in extreme drunken amusement. She stared at the bed, it's large and useful posts, the ends of her mouth turning upwards realizing what a thrilling man her husband was. She was out the door in no time, doing as he said—to prepare Bonnie's clothes for the trip.

Rhett was glad Scarlett did not meet him and Bonnie at the door of their house to bid an excruciating farewell. He could make his much needed escape from Atlanta, from her, holding Bonnie's little hand while treading closer to the carriage that waited at the front entrance of their house. He easily lifted Bonnie before alighting, stopping suddenly upon finding company already in the carriage.

"I thought I'd accompany you," Scarlett said, ignoring the scowl on Rhett's face as her next question secured her position. "Would you like that Bonnie?"

"Certainly, Mother!" Bonnie squealed, tumbling into her mother's open arms.


	2. Terminal Feelings

_I made many changes in this chapter hoping to capture the intensity of their brief private moment together. Try as they might to outwit each other, there's no match against the passion that fuels their desire._

Terminal Feelings

The delightful soft texture of Bonnie's snug baby-blue, velvet dress allowed her hand to work soothingly, caressing the material that massaged the little girl's back. Moments earlier, her daughter flung herself over her lap whining about an itch. Under her touch Bonnie had succumbed to a nap that had been hours overdue, and it empowered Scarlett for accomplishing such a small feat, giving rise to the courage she desperately needed, alone with Rhett. She entreated him to make this moment, be without anything or anyone between them.

"She's going to rumple her beautiful dress. Do set her down comfortably on the seat, will you?"

His strength made it appear to be such a gentle movement, lifting her and placing her down gently on the empty carriage seat across from them. When he returned to his spot, she sensed the extra space made between them was intentional.

"Scarlett, you haven't made any plans to accompany us to England, have you?" he asked, with that mocking grin of his, preparing to say the next snide thing.

"I could never make so an abrupt plan as you can, Rhett Butler." Her eyes were dancing, dangerously playful to his growing curiosity. Then, she turned them away to peer out the window, measuring the close distance to the terminal. "But I do plan on saying a few things before we reach the terminal, being that I have such a short time with you before you depart."

The green eyes directed back at him, seemed troubled and sincere, never faltering to pierce the gaze he had toward her. A second of silence lingered too long for him, he began to ask, "Well, I wish you didn't surprise me this way—"

"You, yourself have quite a few up your sleeves as I fondly recall." There wasn't much time. She had to make sure she had Rhett where she wanted him to be. She needed to lay on her charms as thick and smooth as churned butter. "You do recall, don't you Rhett?"

The new hue on his cheeks answered her question although he made a successful attempt to hide it, momentarily confusing her. "If you're referring to last night, I've made my apologies. And if you're referring to this morning, I meant what I said. I want you to think about my er proposal while I'm away. Absence will make the heart grow fonder, for whom you're truly fond of, that I'm sure. All the more reason, for my departure, to make your decision as easy and painless for you as it can be."

"Did it pain you to make love to me, Rhett?" She found the right moment and question to break his cool and collected façade. He took his eyes off her and stared at the floor of the carriage, his brows furrowing. Even as a fast thinker, Scarlett was faster at inching closer in the brief silence, urging an answer to bubble forth.

"My dear pet. It pains me to be in love with you, and fool that I have been, to have believed my money could've bought yours. There's no need to tell me what's on your mind. I've done enough damage, most especially last night. I'm afraid I've emptied myself out completely."

He met her mouth—contorted—biting her bottom lip underneath intense green eyes that indicated she was trying hard to process all that he said to her, and how it didn't fit with her emotions—her goal to win him over, actually.

"And do you think, your ardor, your gumption, emptying yourself out to me," Scarlett's face was radiating with vibrancy, "was all in vain, Rhett?"

Feeling like a cornered animal as she edged toward him, he leaned his shoulders forward forcing Scarlett to pull her neck back, but she managed to keep her eyes on his, and his mouth as it moved. When he sighed before speaking, she inhaled, narrowing the lids of her eyes, readying to take in his closeness, causing him to almost lose his thoughts.

"It doesn't make a difference what you tell me now. Come now, Scarlett. What's become of you? I don't know what to make of it. Let's just say our goodbyes now. I don't want to have to ruin your mood, which might change by the end of this ride, and I don't want your temper flaring, risking to rouse Bonnie from her nap."

His voice was soft, almost as if he was trying to convince himself, growing weaker in his usually firm delivery, wondering if Scarlett was hearing a different message. Her face was lit with hope.

"The only thing that will flare Rhett, is my desire for my husband."

There! She said it, but that was just a droplet of the flood gates that flowed right after.

"I hear words coming from your mouth, but I,… I don't care what you say to me. I just want to feel the warmth of your breath against my skin again, your hands, your fingertips. To feel and hear the sound coming from your throat, and, oh, the gooseflesh it makes."

He found himself already breathing erratically. His mouth hanging open, unaware that his eyes were transfixed on her exposed neck. His struggle to regain composure was evident, so to keep the momentum, she spoke in a breathless manner, "Oh Rhett, you do know something happened more than….more than making love! Something indescribable!"

"No!" he cried in a whisper, mindful not to stir his daughter. "It was drunken chaos, Scarlett. We were both drunk!"

Scarlett unrelenting, marching toward victory, continued, "I wasn't intoxicated by the brandy at all my darling! And if I was intoxicated, it was from your kisses covering my body completely! Not to forget the taste of your skin still on my lips. Rhett, you see what I realized when you left the room this morning, is that before last night we were starving souls—starving mad for, for, for…" dare she say it, she had to,

"…for love. We deprived ourselves of such simple rations that we had to ravage each other—

Her words were stolen from her, muffled inside his vacuous mouth. In one, sweep of his great arms, he took her in and kissed her passionately, feeling time race by, instead of slow down. Even after several minutes, she still wanted more, and still had more to say. When the time came to relax their hold on each other, he painfully asked against her lips, giving her the brief opportunity to answer, only the question.

"Why must you speak so brazenly?"

She opened her eyes and wondered if it was his or hers, blurred, like grey clouds had formed a fog between them. But she didn't need to have sight to see Rhett was clearly taken and caught in the web of her game. She was just as caught up in it. Her body assuaged already while her mind, hot with fever, flamed uncontrollably. Much like the flames burning the city of Atlanta.

"It's like the war, Rhett," kissing him in between clauses, "so many days, months even, of no food—, slaving in the hot sun—, with no refuge in sight, feeling your burdens—back breaking burdens—suddenly, all lifted—in one night. And darling!" she paused, discovering for herself, in her own thoughts, the description of their relationship.

Then she looked deeply in his eyes, hoping to transfer the memories of her past into them. The past, that hardened her, blinded her ability to be frivolously charming, and appeased. The past that kept all what she was meant to be, dormant. And nothing was as powerful in shattering the emotional fortress the war built in her heart, than Rhett's lone ambush on her, the night before.

"Like when there was so little of everything! You had to take what you could when you could! The enemy robbed us, harmed us, and there was no where to hide, or run. But last night, there was no reason to run. There were no enemies to run away from. All because Rhett, all because in our war, we surrendered to gain victory! Last night! Oh darling! We made our peace last night and I couldn't let you leave without telling you how I feel. That I, I—"

Suddenly the carriage jerked to an abrupt stop. They could hear the bustle of people in Atlanta's train station outside. The carriage swayed as the driver jumped off and in moments swung the door open. They could clearly see by the look on his face, he had interrupted something intense, although not having enough common sense to allow them a few more minutes of privacy. The brightness of the day emanating from the opened door, had stirred Bonnie, and she excitedly asked,

"Are we in London, Daddy?"

It was agony to wrench his arms from Scarlett, but he had no choice if he wanted to prevent Bonnie from jumping out of the carriage.

They walked lazily into the depot, in silence, oblivious to others scurrying by, needing to secure their spots in distant cars, and to the Atlanta socialites who were aware of Scarlett's recent indiscretions only the day before with Ashley, perversely disappointed as they tracked the couple's behavior too obviously and scandalously-quick to be reconciled.

"What are you to do now, Mrs. Butler?" he asked as he took her hand and kissed it. The question meant for himself to answer.

"Why I was hoping you'd change your mind, so we can continue our talk of war. It seems the first time, the topic does not bore me," she replied, her dimples teasing him.

"I can't delay this trip, my pet. I have an important business matter I arranged to settle before you turned my world upside-down again. How am I to think reasonably after your earth-shaking confession?"

"I've confessed nothing, Rhett."

She wished she took that back. But Rhett was already rethinking things. In his frazzled mind, he had sworn he heard her profess words of love. Then he took a step back and refocused on the situation at hand. She was certainly headed down a path he knew well. Seeing to it that he wouldn't fall for any of her charms from there on, he'd have to call on a different game—gambling with the only heart on the table, as it seemed to him.

"I would drop this trip in a heartbeat, my darling Scarlett, if I was undeniably convinced that what you felt was indeed love, but as it is, I only managed to temporarily bring you pleasure, to both of us, I must add. Tomorrow you might loathe me for staying, or trying too hard, the thought compelling me to trust in my fear more than my desire to abandon all logical reasoning."

"What do you think I'm doing, Rhett? I've abandoned all my silly school girl notions of romance, once…" She almost feared to say it in the open public, but after realizing her words were milder than her thoughts, she proceeded, "…..something deep inside me was untapped. What only women, truly desired, know."

He never paid too much mind about what the public thought of him, especially during the war when he stood out in stark contrast in his white linen tailored suits versus the tattered and torn apparel, the public sported, and at that moment as he leaned over to plant a deep farewell kiss on the wife he was detesting to leave behind.

"Say you love me, Scarlett. If only just to hear you say it." He pleaded. It was a moment of sensual intoxication brought on by Scarlett's potent musings that blind-sided him. It too, took her by surprise, fumbling from his grasp and for a response.

"I, I was going to tell you inside the carriage, that, that I knew….Rhett I knew you wouldn't believe me if I said I do. And now? Well, you have asked me to do what is certain you do not believe."

It tore through his chest just the same as it tore through her bosom, tears streaming down her porcelain countenance. The conversation she intended to have, the feelings she intended to leave with him had been intact only a moment ago. Now it felt no different than the Tara during the war, risking her life to return, to find hope, and losing it to the spoils and injustices of war—to be on the side that sorely lost. There was too much realism shared by the two. The reality was that Scarlett could never hide the truth from him, nor could he to himself. Saying it for her to hear was their complete undoing, a disentangling of emotions that had been tightly woven together, in the world they shared in the carriage. Out in the open, they were worlds apart already, staring at each other, quick strangers again.

He placed a white Panama hat over his head and whispered, "Farewell, Scarlett," then waited from a distance for Bonnie to kiss her mother goodbye.

"Be a good girl for Momma," Scarlett whispered in her ear, to drown out the noise around them, "And Precious, take good care of Daddy, he needs all the love you can give."

"I will Momma," she answered and squirmed out of her hold, running back to Rhett to make sure the distance between them didn't increase.


	3. In Touch

In Touch

She rode back in the same carriage, loathing the familiarity of the scent that was Rhett, of cigars, brandy and newly tailored suits; loathing her unconscious will to search for something to hold on to for comfort. A void had grown swiftly being in the lonely plush carriage. Its luxury only reminded her of the spacious freedom that allowed her to unleash the woman she had untapped a short several hours before, on the same man.

Her head was spinning, wondering what in the first place she was trying to accomplish with Rhett back at the terminal. Why had it ended so tragically miscalculated? If Rhett hadn't gone too far, she thought, to challenge the issue of love, it would've been a bittersweet departure. Now, it was agonizing torture. Why, just then she realized. She definitely underestimated him being caught in her own elaborate seductive scheme. Rhett always compromised her for her honesty, but when it regarded him, he couldn't stomach his own medicine. That's what it was! Her posture stiffened as she was able to get a better grip on the clarity of whether her actions were indeed successful.

She thought so, recalling how Rhett had fallen for her cleverest charms, getting lost in it, then struggling to stay in control—to his misfortune, losing that control. She had won this bout, and in a few days, she'd stop feeling bad about it, resuming her normal routine going about her life of redoing the Mill's books, and seeing to it that the new shipment for the Emporium were expeditiously restocked on the shelves.

Despite figuring her husband had reacted no worse than a wounded puppy, there was still a gnawing feeling in her gut she couldn't quite put her finger on. The gnawing felt like an upset stomach as she lay in the middle of her bed that first night alone contending with wildly fresh and vivid sensations. When morning came, she ordered the maids to remove her sheets, and replace it with fresh ones, perhaps to help her get a better night's sleep this time around—not having the scent of him play tricks on her mind. She couldn't possibly be missing the man who irritated her so.

Just as her normal routine of sending off Wade and Ella to school, then reviewing the books were about to resume, Pork walked briskly to her with a yellow paper in his hand.

"Miss Sca'lit, a tel'gram come for you dis morn'n,"

She read it, and Pork had wondered if the message was about someone who died, but dismissed the thought as the color deepened, instead of escape from her face.

"Is you a'right, Miss Sca'lit? Yo look mighty flushed. I'z git you sum water ter drink."

"Have Mammy bring it to me, will you Pork." she quietly said, holding tightly the ends of the telegram as she read it over and over while walking to the parlor.

"Thank you, Mammy," she muttered, hastily grabbed the glass and chugged it down, having eyed the decanter earlier, refilled to the rim with the amber-rich colored brandy.

"Sumptin troubling you, Miss Sca'lit?" she asked, informed by Pork about the telegram. Scarlett noticed Mammy wince in pain, as she shifted her weight to the other side.

"Not quite. No, but see if Pork can drop the children, and on his way back, to call Dr. Meade over for a visit this morning. I don't feel like leaving the house just yet."

Mammy knew, in fact all the maids buzzed to their mistresses, the trouble Scarlett got into with the Wilkes'. When it got back to her, she vehemently denied its truth on behalf of the Butler family, declaring it to be nothing but all, "wuthless roomahs!"

Scarlett asked her to keep her company in the library until the doctor came. Mammy sat down at Scarlett's urging, but Scarlett couldn't stay seated for long. The stout old lady observed the preoccupation that had her Mistress overwrought, the telegram clutched in one hand as she paced back and forth out into the halls and back.

"Sit down chile, and tell Mammy what ailin you so?" Mammy finally snapped. "You sho done it now. All da white folks huffn bout wuts dey tink happen wit u and dat Mista Wi'kes."

"What do they know, Mammy?" Scarlett whipped back, indignant. "I don't care a fig about what they say. Besides none of it is true."

Mammy retracted and spoke gently, meaning to ask, "Why Mista Rhett leavin in sech a hu'rry, den?"

"He knows it's not true, Mammy." She gasped and thought. He didn't! She never cared to explain her innocence. Perhaps if she did, he would have never left. Then she remembered. He didn't have to ask. He admitted that he knew she was faithful, at least, only physically. That thought would plague her mind for hours, even after Dr. Meade came and went.

"No, Dr, Meade, I'm fine. It's Mammy who needs a doctor." Scarlett clarified. The whites of Mammy's eyes indicated a fearsome glare at her. But she quickly discerned it. "Don't worry, Mammy. You'd like the pain to go away, wouldn't you?"

"Scarlett, are you sure you're fine?" Dr. Meade asked in private.

"Why yes, Dr. Meade. I need Mammy to be up and about. You see, Dr. Meade, Rhett has something planned for us, and I want to make sure she's up for it." Her explanation and Rhett's involvement brought some relief in him, that trouble wasn't as bad as the rumors made it seem.

After the examination, a dose of mild pain killers, and Dr. Meade's admonition that shedding a few pounds would lighten the strain on her back, Scarlett felt more at ease to confide in Mammy.

"Mammy, I need a break. I deserve it more than anyone, since I work so hard without ever taking a break all these years."

"Speshly wen ya carryin Ella. I tol' ya it wun't fittin…" Mammy reminded her, and Scarlett returned the sentiment,

"Yes, well someone had to make the money to feed everyone at Tara. Mammy, I have more troubles in my mind than I can manage to put away. I think it would do us both some good to take a trip and leave the city for a while, wouldn't it? Why, in no time you'd be fit for travelling."

"Why sho Miz Sca'lit. I don't mind visitn' folks wit ya. Wheaz to? Charleston? Savannah? Tara?" Mammy asked, all cheeky from both the excitement of a well-deserved vacation and from the medication.

"To England," Scarlett answered, watching the frozen expression on Mammy's big round glistening bronze face, boring out of its sockets dilated white eyes. "Mammy, Rhett wants us to join him and Bonnie—you, me, Wade and Ella. It says here in this telegram." She waved the paper at her, its message memorized after reading it a hundred times over.

"Mista Rhett sho is full o' suprazzes. I'z cloze to callin him a skunk fa leavin ya ter answa ter deez Atlanta fokes gossip allz by yaself. Now he gwine take ya way from all dey waggin tongues."

Mammy's forthrightness about the mean people of Atlanta had dampened her spirits sealing her decision to leave town. She wasn't ready to face Melly again, or her loyal followers. The trip to Europe was exciting, on its own, as much as the idea of allowing hot gossip to simmer down. Now able to put that concern aside, she made sure to make a mental note to never let her guard down when it came to Rhett's invitations. She knew well, just how determined he was to get handsomely compensated. The crumpled paper in her hands confirmed victory was closer at hand for her than she thought. His threat of divorce was as good as gone, and after the trip, she'd be back to her normal self again. Then, she blushed to wonder the expression on the telegraphers faces, sending out this message and upon receiving it. It was scandalously delicious! Reading it to herself again fearing the words might have betrayed her eyes.

BOOKED PASSAGE FOR WADE ELLA MAMMY AND YOU FOR ENGLAND TO EMBARK SATURDAY. SCARLETT I NEED YOUR TOUCH. COME BE WITH ME. RHETT

_All chapters were modified. The story line is still intact, but I hope a little more refined, and understandable. Thanks to Merovia and others who compelled me to look at my work a little more objectively. Please review and let me know where you think its headed._


	4. Leaving Safe Harbor

_Thank you for all the encouraging reviews. I am planning to close this story in a couple of chapters. It was fun coming up with an alternate path that still stayed true to Scarlett's character. If you were to think about it, during those days, the thought of divorce was worse than death, so surely a character as self-centered, yet altogether as charming as Scarlett would've had put all her cunning faculties into full use—for the all important sake of self-preservation. This chapter is somewhat the calm before the storm. Although I don't think what transpires is mildly taken. I hope you enjoy……_

4 Leaving Safe Harbor

The most excruciating part of the voyage for Scarlett wasn't the turbulent ocean that sent most of the passengers to wretch in their cabins for days, or when Wade was nearly thrown overboard doing a scene from his Aunt Melanie's favorite book "les Miserables", or when Ella was missing for hours then later found at the dining hall, practicing table etiquette; a class offered to the young girls on board which Rhett had thoughtfully signed her up for, and which Scarlett failed to hear the concierge mention having a million thoughts running through her mind those first few days. No, the difficult part was when she realized she was truly on the boat, taken by the first of Rhett's romantic whims since they married, when there were so many things in Atlanta left unfinished—business things.

Now out of the Atlanta fish bowl, she had a better view of the pettiness of gossip which Melanie had seen all along. Anger flared for Rhett, an emotion conditioned to appear in association to any of his deeds and motives, especially when she gave into them. But it was a fleeting feeling to again arise sometime later, and throughout her life she was sure. How she dreaded to leave the Mill's book in shambles, with Ashley showing nothing bothered him except on the books—his mind obviously elsewhere—shortchanging the Mill on the fattest old cat, Mrs. Whiting's lumber order. He would ensure her presence be brief as she glared at him, well-informed about the malicious gossip, rushing his workers to fill her wagon, no recount necessary. Scarlett never had the chance to tell the workers to pull the excess lumber back. She had more important things to think about, like shop for new clothes for the trip. No, the excruciating part was releasing all the anxieties she held as her routine, her small chaotic world which she could organize with paper and pen. For what it was worth, it was a successful world that had taken a life of its own, what any business owner strived for, but for Scarlett, its sustainability diminished her importance—and that realization troubled her for days, until the very trip itself transformed her thinking.

There were passengers sharing with her information about the businesses they owned, industries they inherited, pointing to her who on the ship owned what, married who and what they married into. Some had not set foot in the buildings they owned, nor had seen some of the grand estates they inherited. Such fools they all were thought Scarlett, such airs they put on, living carefree when real hardworking people toiled, like her, and made honest money for themselves. There were hard-working people out there too, who made their empires a reality. Then her ego stepped in. Why she was just as successful as they were, born with aristocratic traits, and marrying herself a self-made millionaire. Just then, she wondered just how rich could Rhett be.

There were plenty of activities for the passengers to do. The kids were always out of her hands playing with the other kids. She'd never seen them happier and dead-tired by the end of the day. Mammy made plenty friends with the other maids, and while the kids were in classes, she would sneak off for a nap and rest her back in the cabin. She was looking better each passing day. Scarlett was no different, her winning and competitive spirit made the activities quickly lose its challenge. Everyone sought her out, but she'd hide up in the deck to take in some sun. She wanted time to think about what would become of her once in England. She had to arrive prepared, she had to think, scheme, and fight back those naughty thoughts that kept her from focusing.

The sweeping ocean seemed to her as if she would never reach Rhett. She caught herself aware of the longing for him, of his strong arms, and wanted nothing to get in the way, when she found thoughts of the past creeping into her mind. The involuntary twitch of her stomach muscles always reminded her of the emptiness, and the promise of what she said to him in the carriage about starvation; a feeling she vowed never to feel again. However, one that day she felt the involuntary twitch come from her heart. She wondered, what promise was it expecting? Who was she expecting it from?

_The war made me turn from a carefree belle to a woman in charge of a house. Mother was so much younger but did it all with grace and honor, she thought, and was disappointed she handled things the total opposite. Why was I so different from her? What was the difference?_

In an effort to figure it out, she set aside time to spend with Mammy.

"Nowz I'z tink 'bout it, Miss Scalit, yus wanted ter love mo' dan Miss Ellen cudn't in ha sho't laf. Sum'un needed ter do it at Tara. Yo Mamma used her hanz ter take care of ever'tin. Ma lamb, ya used your heart, even wit da darkies, lak wastin Mista Gerald's good money on dat wuthless chile, Prissy! Yuz put ya heart in everytin, efen if it wuz fittin and mmm-umm-mmm, wen it plum wun't fittin at all."

They both laughed, and Mammy continued. "Ya sista, Miss Suellen can neva be a lady widout yo Momma, das why she so silly. She needz to be tol how to be a lady. An lawd Miss Carreen is sho lak yo Mamma, her heart wen ter da grabe wid dat Tarleton boy, n she walk 'roun wit a smile on er face, but cryin in ha room at night. Das why I'z tol ya Miss Ellen cudn't love lak yuz could. Haf er heart went ter da grabe long befo she came ter Tara."

"The war changed so many lives. Promises and love gone for those who gave up. When will these people ever learn things are different now? Why can't they move on?" Scarlett asked picking at her food.

"Yuz alwez knew tings be diffn't, an yuz din't giv'up on love an promising yasef sumptin dat wuz neva yoz," Mammy asserted, knowing now was the time to bring it to the table and settle the matter.

"Why Mammy, what could you mean, and what do you know about anything—" Scarlett was taken aback by Mammy's accusation.

"I'z know ya fillins for Mista Wilkes whilz since Tara, an it don't change 'til now. Ma lamb yo sho can change it, if you aimin ter save yasef an yo merrech to Mista Rhett."

"There's nothing to save, Mammy. Don't you believe that I didn't do anything wrong? Rhett believes me. Why else would he take me away from all those nasty people?"

"What I b'lieve wen yo sho act lak yuz dun sumptin wrong? First ting yuz gwine do right fo Mista Rhett, yo husbon, is gittin on dis boat. Yuz neva dun anytin' he tol ya!"

Scarlett felt as if she was back in Tara again, arguing with Mammy. The scene was too familiar. Mammy had always been the one to get her to see what everyone didn't have the courage to point out—including Miss Ellen. To Scarlett's advantage, she always knew what it was about and when to stand her ground or give in for something in exchange. This time, she was clearly at a disadvantage, where Ashley was concerned. The perspective couldn't have been clearer tonight—there was nothing to stand for and to exchange. The war she waged against everyone including her own heart, had been nothing but a lost cause.

Scarlett cried out but towards the end, Mammy knew she had finally reached the heart of her pig-headed Mistress.

"I could've said no if I didn't want to go, but I do! And I don't need to save myself anymore than I need to save my marriage. Mammy, everyone's been fooled, and I can't stop them from thinking absurd things, but Rhett will make everything better once we get there. I know he will. He always has. Now I don't want to think about anything else. Don't bring up the past anymore! It saddens me, and that's what got me in all this trouble in the first place. Why if Ashley wasn't talking about the past I wouldn't have gotten all upset and he wouldn't have wanted to comfort me and that mean nasty India wouldn't be spreading what her jealous eyes chose to see."

Suddenly Mammy giggled, infuriating Scarlett, "And what do you find so funny? Making light of my problems, I see."

"Probl'ms yuz neva shudda had. Oh ma lamb, can't yuz eva haf fun da way yuz had wit ta twins b'fo Ashley came? He'z been nuttin but trouble fo you. Yuz putting a stor by him. Mista Rhett be'n sho lak dem twins put t'geder, but a load hansumma, and richa! Das wen you wuz da belle of da county. Yuz w'kin in the Mill wit Ashley has u lukin lak his white trash slave."

"How could you?" Scarlett was repulsed, and thought a private dinner with Mammy would do them both some good, but instead it allowed her to be the butt of a joke, by a slave no less. Before walking out of the room, Mammy in a laughing jag, Scarlett spotted the medicine bottle on the night stand, then turned to the empty glass of wine besides Mammy's barely touched plate. Dr. Meade said the medication would have some side effects, and consuming alcohol surely had exacerbated it, Mammy's candor most of all. She sat back in her chair and coaxed Mammy into finishing her food, then tucked her in before returning to her room and thoughts.

New horizons were before her, although she couldn't see it in the darkness in her personal balcony—one of the few amenities the regal cabins offered to its passengers. In that dark night, she could feel the winds, from its distant reaches, welcome her. Feeling for the first time, secure, although alone, but longed for just the same by someone waiting for her in the same darkness and foreign space. Rhett ensured her voyage would be nothing below elite status. In this ship, she was in the same ranks as a prince, who slept two cabins away from her.

Mammy's comments surely had cut deep, putting her down when she was obviously surrounded with the opulence restricted from the view of white trash in the steerage below. But was that what people saw her to be? Even when she tried to put displeasing thoughts always saved for tomorrow, there was nothing to preoccupy her mind the next day. She was helpless without her business, but she made a decision not be the same person when returning to Atlanta. She would learn to be classier and more sophisticated than these frivolous women. She could learn to be frivolous too.

Reluctantly, she faced her feelings, those that never saw the light of day. That had been in the dark recesses of her heart, that kept her heart in starvation mode for years—she later learned on that one night with Rhett—the heart that had harbored a love which stole years from her. In the placid black night, she left pieces of it behind, and found the reflection of a full moon ahead of the ship, giving her the fortitude to take on new uncharted waters in her search for new love and life. She was ready for anything Rhett could throw at her if she didn't finally fall weak to the aftermath of seafaring. The ship's crew bade farewell to the enigmatic, Scarlett, one of the pretty passengers who had wretched like mad after the boat docked, hiding a knowing smirk that empty decanters in their rooms, and not weak sea legs had done them in.

_All chapters were modified. The story line is still intact, but I hope a little more refined, and understandable. Thanks to Merovia and others who compelled me to look at my work a little more objectively. I saw how underdeveloped it was, despite having all these ideas swimming around in my mind. _


	5. No Fair Lady

5 No Fair Lady

The ride from the dock to an immense mansion in the middle of the city was all a blur to Scarlett. All she recalled were outlines of figures coming to her aid as she lost consciousness while walking over the swaying gang plank. The churning waters below worsened the queasiness inside her. Her struggle to keep it from surfacing was too much until relief came in a sudden, her face able to stare at still blue skies, replacing the murky tumbling waves, as she was swept off her feet, by the strong arms that encircled her waist and legs.

Her head bobbed and knocked her in and out of consciousness, giving her rare opportunities to peer out the carriage window, capturing glimpses of the famous bridges of London. She wished she wasn't in such a state where the clopping of horse hooves sent throbbing drumbeats straight to the temples of her head, further disorienting her.

A strange lady sat across from her, and for one moment, she wasn't sure if her mind was playing tricks. Thinking out loud, she asked, "Mother?"

The voice brought a mixture of relief and disappointment in its unfamiliarity,

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Butler, but that I've never been."

Her accent was not familiar to Scarlett, not even British it was, but the harder she tried to register everything about her environment, the more squeamish she became. Blindly, she sought for a comfortable position and felt the same strong arms beside her. She leaned against it for comfort, and quietly whispered before closing her eyes,

"My darling, Rhett. I'm awfully glad to be in your arms again. But, where are the children?"

The woman in her accent, quickly answered, "The carriage behind us with their nanny."

Scarlett snuggled easier and closer to the warm body next to her, sleep overcoming her before she could fight the sense that something was not right in the carriage. Surrendering to her drowsiness, she did gladly—wanting to drown out the annoying laughter coming from the strange lady.

In what seemed like a moment later, a horrid smell had jolted her senses, thrusting her eyelids to jut open, where she could now see the strange lady—clearly—holding the smelling salt in her fingertips.

"We are almost to our destination, Mrs. Butler. I thought to wake you now so that your children will be relieved seeing you in better spirits. My name is Maria Luisa Ruiz Kavannaugh, a relative of your husband."

Her first thoughts were that Rhett knew many women who could easily pose as his kin, who would die for a chance to be of service to him, but as she glared at this woman, there was something eerily familiar about her—having an air of arrogance and sophistication that convinced her they were related. More striking, were the physical similarities. She had the same complexion as Rhett, olive skin, with the same dark features. Carefully trained thick eyebrows and lashes that had to have been tediously trimmed, and her nose was long and pointed just like his. She looked about his age, which would explain her mistakenly calling out for her mother. Ellen looked much older than her age though, she recalled. Her mother's stern countenance had forced lines to form in her forehead and beside her lips, a stark contrast from this woman who looked like she never had a care in the world. Scarlett found herself inclined to fantasize aging the way this mysterious lady did, yet still spited her elderly beauty. She turned to the seat beside her and found it empty.

"Rhett, where is he? He was just here, wasn't he? Wasn't that Rhett?" She asked, doubting her memory. Her forehead throbbed, even worse now that the strange lady resumed her laughing.

"No, Mrs. Butler, but after being afflicted with your affectionate conduct the gentlemen wished he was. He was saddened to have to leave your side, but his hotel was along the way…."

A piercing pain shot up her back from the shock of having "come on" to a total stranger, and her senses reckoning that she was being mocked. She'd have to put this stranger in her place, and the privacy made it easy for her to do so.

"I certainly hope you don't find it in good taste to be amused with an illness I simply couldn't help?"

Her annoyance only stopped the lady from laughing but there was still that sneer, a knowing look of having had the opportunity to study Scarlett while asleep and sprawled on the seat like a drunken vagrant.

"If it wasn't Rhett, who was he?" Scarlett asked, ashamed of being apparently soothed by the masculine figure.

"Juan Pablo Alfonso de Borbon. He's from Spain. Are you familiar with the place or his family? You must've known about him. He was on the same ship. It's hard to miss such a distinguished gentleman."

Scarlett grew to dislike the lady quickly, who was still sneering at her as if she had her pegged as this ignorant country girl. Expressing her disenchantment, she replied,

"No. I haven't the faintest idea who he is at all. Where is Rhett?"

Adding to her disenchantment, was Rhett's poor choice in selecting the welcoming party. _Oh, I could just kill him, she thought. I'm in London, and even here he makes his presence a mystery. _

"He's been away, taking care of business. He's not expected to return until Saturday. But not to worry Mrs. Butler, you and your children are in the best hands."

"What is today?" Scarlett asked, losing track of the days from being on the ship for two weeks.

"Monday." The lady, answered, giggling while exiting the carriage. Scarlett could see the pleasure she took in her discomfort. _Ooh, What I would do to that varmint! And to leave me with this old raccoon! She thought. _

There was a staff of servants in a formation on the steps of the mansion waiting for their arrival. Mammy alighted and didn't hide her astonishment, of the whiteness of the servants, hiding underneath woolly, bleached wigs, covering pale faces that never seemed to have encountered the sun, and how white knee-high stockings accentuated their scrawny legs.

"Milady, if I may," a servant who stepped forward offered his hand and escorted the lady up the steps, and likewise did another to Scarlett, then to Ella, and to the little bouncing Bonnie.

Scarlett felt a tug on her dress, and turned to find Wade, his eyes looking for reassurance of her recovery.

"I'm fine, my darling Wade," she answered smoothing his tousled hair, "how mighty chivalrous of you to check on me."

Noises were muffled in one of the rooms in the house, but once the servant opened its double doors the masculine smells of cigars, whiskey and leather greeted the Butler family before its occupants, made their way out. Bonnie wrinkled her nose.

A man came dashing out, grabbed the old woman's soft hand and kissed it, "Lady Kavannaugh!"

He was one acquainted to aesthetically pleasing things, which is why Scarlett although standing behind the lady, had quickly captured his attention. His eyes bolted right to her sparkling green pair. Facets of her eyes, sparkled, from the rancid liquid threatening to spew out from even the faintest smell of brandy, captivating the aspiring artist even moreso.

"And who is this enchanting visitor? Eyes gleaming deeply, reminding me of the endless shamrock fields of Ireland. Where you're from, I assume?"

"My pa…my father came from Ireland, but settled in America. In a southern country called Georgia, to be exact." She answered, the flattery quickly atoning over her nausea.

Gasps came from three men who scooted forward together. One ascertained,

"A southern accent, I dare say! From America! How splendid it is to meet a, a….What did they call them?"

The next one answered, "A belle!"

"Yes, quite so! Named after the way their frocks shaped their figures!" a seemingly inebriated British lad informed everyone hoping to sound factual. Inspiration to sober up transpired upon seeing Scarlett's deepening dimples.

As the servants took the children and Mammy to their rooms, Scarlett asked to be excused, but the men begged her to linger.

"Now, now, gentlemen. Leave the dear sick girl be," said Lady Kavannaugh. "She had wretched as soon as the ship docked. I'm sure she'd like to freshen up."

The men again did their dramatic gasping, and begged again for her pardon. Scarlett stood there simmering from the whole sea-sick experience she was sure was behind her, until the mention of it. However, this time it would be her to have the sneer. She had shifted the attention the lady was used to getting, to her without putting on her best charms, not even looking half her best.

_Imagine if I wasn't sick. They'd be at my feet, but it's Rhett who I need to save all the charms I can muster. I need to be radiant if I am to erase the thought of divorce forever from his head. Thank goodness he isn't here to see me like this. Oh, how he would laugh to no end at my floundering, much like that cattish relative of his enjoys doing. I'd soon scratch both their eyes out as soon as I'd find out just how related they really were, she thought to herself. _

Just then, she graciously—though inwardly—gloriously bowed out, and told to their naturally pouty British faces, "I simply must retire for a while. Lady Kavannaugh, will you please accept my apologies as I take leave from your delightful company for the rest of the day to convalesce? I would like to look more presentable. Well, to appear appropriately honorable to your most distinguishable European hospitality. It was a pleasure meeting you all."

The men huddled closely behind each other, mesmerized by her languorous southern accent. They waited, all giddy, for their turn to kiss her hand. Adoring her, an American novelty in their midst, watching as she slowly walked down the immense hall. As if she'd never get to her room soon enough, exhaustion weighed her down like iron, and she wanted to remain in bed the whole time until Rhett arrived.

When sleep had claimed her, vivid dreams had soon played in her mind. She was back at Tara, the smell of its fresh red dirt so strong and earthy. Mounted on her favorite Philly, her hair flowing freely behind her as they rode across the meadows, then stopped to rest under a tree where the horse could nibble on some grass. Scarlett rested against the shady trunk, incapable of escaping the same exhaustion even in her dream. The horse licked her face urging to rouse her. She turned away from the immense head of the horse, but couldn't avoid getting her face soiled with grass and mud. Then came a frightful sound to her ears, when she heard from the horse's throat—her name. "Scarlett?"

Awakened, she was looking directly into his dark eyes. Rhett, disheveled as a confederate soldier on Tara's doorstep. But this was no dream. He was real, holding her, his damp shirt, reeking of sweat and mud. His face caked with a thin film of soot.

"Rhett!" She sighed happily, but the pungent odors assaulted her. "What on earth?"

_All chapters were modified. The story line is still intact, but I hope a little more refined, and understandable. Thanks to Merovia and others who compelled me to look at my work a little more objectively. Please review and let me know where you think its headed._


	6. Author's Notes

The Revamped Version

_Thank you for your kind reviews. I know you all are waiting for a new chapter, which is in the works. What I did this weekend was spend time on the previous chapters, adding more of Scarlett's thoughts, and how her mind game is coming along. Some chapters were confusing and jumpy, so I tried my best to correct those areas, and provide a little more substance in those sentences. Please reread and I assure you it would feel like you're watching the deleted scenes feature in a DVD. The next chapter will surprise you. And I'm taking the time to ensure that. _

_I saw how underdeveloped the story was, despite having all these ideas swimming around in my mind. It reminded me of a Brazilian restaurant I went to once, serving humungous barbecued choice cuts of all kinds of meat in giant skewers. A waiter would come to your table and ask what part you'd like—well done, medium well, or rare. After your mouth-watering reply having the immense sight of the juicy meat before you, he'd go ahead and cut you a thin strip. Small, thin strips! And that experience is what I have given my audience with my story. Not enough meat in the story, until now! If you are vegetarian, I apologize twice—for this story and the old "Edge of Victory"._

_Please re-read the previous chapters if it's not so much to ask, and in a few days the next chapter, where Rhett and Scarlett reunite, will be posted. _


	7. 6 The Clean Sweep

_Thanks for being patient. I took a little something from the book "Rhett Butler's People" and threw it in here. I hope you enjoy this one. They finally reunite and share quite a few things with each other._

6 The Clean Sweep

"I think I'm going to be sick," she muttered, bringing the back of her hand over her nose.

"I was expecting strong emotions to abound during our first moments in reuniting….."

Scarlett immediately pushed him away in the middle of his thought, hurrying across the long room, while he tracked her movement, "but never did I expect that our time apart would cause this type of reaction."

Rhett stood from the bed once he heard Scarlett heave into the porcelain bowl set on top of the bureau.

"I must say, I've never had this affect on any woman before," He imparted, amused.

She spun around, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and asked, "Why do you smell like you came from a burning building? A barn, more like it. You look ghastly!"

She walked back toward the bed, still holding her hand over her face, to block both her unsightly complexion and his noxious smell. Reaching for her wrapper, she noticed that her husband was analyzing the black smudge on the fingers he used to wipe his face. As if he didn't realize it was all over him until then. His eyes narrowed, the length of his mouth increased, and then he lifted his eyebrow. He swiftly unbuttoned his shirt while telling her of his misadventure,

"Why it must've been during my sudden encounter with a, er, a chimney sweep.

"A chimney, what?" she asked, wiping the wetness from her eyes.

"A chimney sweep. A person who cleans chimneys with a long broom." He explained as he peeled the shirt sleeve off his arm abruptly, and used his clothing to rub the rest of the dirt off his face. After discarding it on a nearby chair he proceeded to pull off his long and soiled riding boots.

"…Must've had a bag full of ashes with him. At any rate, did you know, if blockade running didn't work out for me, I would've stayed in London and tried to make my fortune as a chimney sweep."

"Cleaning chimneys, Rhett?"

"I'd hire hundreds of sweeps. You know how I don't like to get my own hands dirty. Well, usually."

"The exception is tonight of all nights. And how do you explain the mud on your boots and clothing?"

Scarlett's head was still spinning, and she was trying hard to get her bearings while absorbing Rhett's mysterious appearance in the middle of the night. She was so relieved he was here, with her. But when he didn't answer, she wondered if her seasick mind was again tormenting her. The conversation that ensued between them abruptly ended in deafening silence. As if he had vanished while she rubbed the pressure building between her eyebrows. Before she cried out his name, she had the thrill of being startled by him when he peeked his head out from the bathroom door—a comforting sight aside from her many spiraling thoughts. He asked,

"You know how many chimneys there are in London?"

Rhett knew that talk of new riches was like an elixir to Scarlett, and a diversion he used to avoid exposing the truth about his muddled attire. She was moved enough to ask,

"Thousands, I suppose. And more if you have to clean them often. Is labor cheaper here?"

There was no answer from him again, but she heard the sounds of running water, and assumed he started a much needed bath for himself. It was his turn to be startled. He caused the water to splash out, jerking his body towards the sound of her voice. It was a soft deep voice, echoing as it bounced against the large marble-laden bathroom walls.

"Allow me." She muttered, bending low to take the wash cloth from his hand.

Rhett sat there frozen, almost appearing frightened, watching her submerged hand soak the wash cloth deep into the tub water. After inhaling ever so slowly, his shoulders stiffened. Only until when her hand re-emerged, did he exhale, feeling relieved that she went straight to work on his back. A series of frightening thoughts flashed in front of him, that aside from never being completely caught off guard, let alone looking filthy in front of Scarlett, he was now truly and completely exposed to her—his emotion written all over his face, and his body language—a display of queer excitement.

He was a solid mass of silence as she worked a lather of soap on him. Closing his eyes helped him to relax a little more, and to recollect. This was not the first time he was bathed by a woman, thinking back as she ran her fingers through his hair. He wondered why he felt strangely about it. They always remained proper, as many spouses were accustomed to in those days, regarding their hygiene regimen as a chore done apart in separate rooms and times. There was nothing at all improper about this act, but Rhett found it more uncharacteristic than anything else, especially coming from Scarlett. Yet there she was down on her knees in such a subservient posture, finding the moment to be the most, touching between them, and undeniably, arousing.

She sensed the tenseness building in her legs having resorted to squatting, and even felt it on Rhett's firm body. Without delay she voiced,

"Maybe I should get more comfortable if I am to be thorough," and went and did what she thought.

He felt a cold wind upon his back as she stepped away—unable to dare himself, to turn around, lest he disappoint his imagination. How unlikely that would be. This new attitude she adopted was guaranteeing him no shortages on surprises. The breeze he felt came from the thin layers of night-apparel cascading off Scarlett's cream silken body, making its fluttery descent to the cold marble floor. He kept his wide eyes away from her, to hide this momentary struggle of trepidation, never looking back as she slipped into the tub and slowly sank into the water behind him. Although the tub had enough room for a party of four, Scarlett slid her cold, dry flesh to get as close as she could to the warmth of Rhett's immense slick back. She felt a vibration come from deep within him and out, having formed into the sound of his signature mocking laughter.

"Mrs. Butler, I must tell you that I'm sincerely enjoying your vacation to London, already. Do tell me, how did this playful side of you happen?"

"Playful? Fiddle dee dee! Rhett, don't you see it's requiring a lot of work to remove the filthiness from you? And I'm not exactly talking about bathing."

He continued to laugh heartily as Scarlett gently pulled him to lean back until they both were comfortable, her back against the tub, arms through his. She wiped between the grooves of his defined abdomen. Then up she went, towards his chest after dousing on him more soap water. Rhett remained still, but now limber and relaxed under her diligent, mild, cleansing touch. She moved over his shoulders—dipping, dousing, wringing, rubbing—was her pattern, proceeding down the length of his arms, then up his thick neck, then to the thick brush in the pit of his arms. The bend of her slick long legs protruded above the water, flanking him from both sides, making a suitable rest for his arms. His hands were absently gliding over the side of her outer thighs, as he fell deeper into the relaxing warmth.

"Is the Kavannaugh Manor to your liking? Rhett asked.

"If it wasn't so huge. I almost didn't make it to my room, after an exhausting ride to the house. That horrid woman, Lady Kavannaugh, saw to making me a spectacle for my squeamishness at the docks in front of her nice guests. How could she possibly be your kin?" She asked thrashing her hand about in the water, projecting her annoyance.

"That horrid woman, is my Aunt. You were seasick, Scarlett?"

"Aunt, my foot! She's about your age Rhett!"

"A few years older, actually." Scarlett gasped. The woman looked magnificently younger than she really was. She made a quick mental note to find out the secret of her ageless beauty once time permitted during her stay there.

"She's the best kept Butler secret!" Rhett explained. Scarlett stopped her wiping, which prompted him to continue on before she got the idea he slipped—that there were other secrets he might be forced to mention. And forbid anything should distract Scarlett from her attentive mood!

"My grandfather's secret, which he took with him to the grave, at least the grave in New Orleans. But in Sao Paulo, Brazil, he left the fortune he made during his so-called pirate-speculating days there, to her—his daughter. Yet she lived as poor as a pauper for fear of ever being discovered by the legitimate Butler family, of course, who were painted in a notorious, blood-thirsty, money-hungry light by my grandfather, himself."

"How did you find out about her?" Scarlett asked, intrigued.

"During one of my voyages to South America—to Brazil, when I had to search farther in for supplies, and better quality goods. Her family kept a painting of my grandfather up on their wall, and the villagers recognized I was the spitting image of him. Somehow, she knew I wasn't being received by my family so, needless to say, they made a big ceremony for my introduction into her world. We corresponded regularly, but after the war, she moved, when she married the prominent Sea Lord Kavannaugh. Hence, the title she bears of Lady. Maria Luisa was named after my grandfather, Louis Valentine. You know Scarlett, you can learn quite a few things from this woman. You two have so many things in common."

"What could I possibly have in common with such a rude raccoon like her?" Scarlett hissed.

"Her way with men has earned her three husbands, whom all have passed on, fortunately for her…."

"That is a mean thing to say, Rhett Butler! You cad!" Scarlett cut him off, but he pressed her to listen, holding himself steady while being shoved in the back by her.

"Calm down, Scarlett! I meant that with the utmost honor and compliment to your beauty and financial prosperity."

Showing how well that compliment was paid, she planted her feet on his lower back, and stretched out her legs to propel Rhett forward, away from her. He spun himself around, his face was devoid of apology, but held that same stern look he gave her the morning he stood at her bedside, "She's a well-respected lady, whose fought hard her whole life—had fallen short, picked herself up again, to earn every honor and title given to her, well deserving of respect and admiration. That is what I meant."

She proceeded to take the wash cloth and began cleaning herself, replying after lathering her left shoulder then up her raised arm, "You've got your filth on me Rhett!

"She holds a heavy interest on me, and your daughter. Listen to me, Scarlett…."

"Now I see." She said, switching the wash cloth to her other hand. An argument was brewing and she was debating whether to be agreeable or obstinate. Her tempestuous nature had surfaced, which gave her the chance to demonstrate her plan. She needed to harness her emotions no matter what Rhett threw at her. On the ship, she realized that this trait had caused many arguments, unwittingly always giving Rhett the upper hand.

"Your grandfather's admonitions weren't for naught, about Butlers. Don't worry Rhett darling, I won't get in the way of family interest. Besides, I'm a Butler, too, and you always told me how much we're alike. So! Do tell me how Bonnie is involved in this?"

_Maybe then, I'll know just how nice I should be to that raccoon, she thought._

Rhett caught a glimpse of that famous simper, a clear indication Scarlett was up to something, motives hidden underneath fiery, ambitious eyes,

"We'll talk about that later. It will be a while before it is of important matter again. The matter, at hand, is what I want to know. What are you trying to do, Scarlett?"

"At this moment, trying to freshen up. Have you forgotten how you overwhelmed me and the entire room with your presence?" she answered, wondering if her strategy worked.

"No, Scarlett. I sense desperation in you, and usually it's because you're afraid of something. Considering the past, you've done some wild things out of desperation. So come out and tell me what you're afraid of?"

She kept wiping herself with the soapy cloth, appearing unphased by his assertion. She straightened her leg raising it above the soapy water, taking the wash cloth to the tip of her toes, slid it down past her knees, thighs, then back into the water before setting the cloth down, all the while pulling from her memory, the words to answer him. This was the moment she prepared for, over and over, while on the ship. Her triumph lingered at the threshold of the words she was about to utter. She was sure of it.

"I am desperate. To be loved, Rhett. I waited like a thief for stolen moments, misplacing my naïve loyalty elsewhere. I've missed so many moments, and I just wish I could make up for lost time, with you. I want to share your bed with you, talk like we used to, take a ride in the woods, travel around the world with you, play with the children more, have more….children."

"You're playing a game Scarlett. A dangerous one."

It was too good to be true. Her words had the same effect as brandy—burning at first, warmth flowing throughout the body, then a release of all the tension and inhibition after the third glass. Rhett added,

"You're saying way too much, wanting too much…." He was trying to a put a finger on her motives, but he didn't need to. She was going to spare him his doubts.

"If I don't, I'll lose such a rare and wonderful thing—what most decent people won't ever allow themselves to feel, or wouldn't know how to begin to feel. It's what you and I never had to fear. You always gave me the freedom to unleash my emotions, and my passions, leaving it completely unbridled that memorable night. That is what I fear more than anything else—to lose—from the only man who truly possessed it all, and gave it all to me— heart, mind and soul. You consumed me, Rhett! With your bruising touches, you sparked something wild in me, and for that, I want you!"

Rhett never looked as serious as he did. There was no hint of darkness in his stern eyes. Hope had been answered by the dramatic change, his spoiled, immature wife was undergoing. Scarlett was speaking with the passion he had always known to be a huge part of her. He reached out for her underneath the murky water, found her leg, and took grasp of it.

Scarlett continued, "You say I want too much. I just want you. I would do anything to show you—anything for you!"

Those last few words, she remembered saying to a love of long ago, and meant it. The conviction in her eyes told Rhett she definitely meant it—for him. She laid her heart out on the table in her own game, and felt it break those old chains of love. A smile crept up her face after realizing she had broken the main barrier between them, and now there was nothing to stop them. She had won the ability to love as freely and as passionately as she wanted to, and Rhett was there to ensure she did, since he was also the chief benefactor.

Rhett reeled in the leg he was holding, closing the space between them easily by bringing her to his lap. He weaved his fingers into her wet hair and pulled her down toward his lips, giving her an unhurried, deep probing kiss. The waves of the long ocean voyage had carried and brought her to him, and in the rippling bath waters Scarlett would travel inward to find the rhythm in this journey of rapture, matching Rhett's entrenched pulses racing to climb and break the surface. Together, they met each other at the apex. They were greeted with a cresting sensation, having carried the rising tide that rolled over and crashed towards the welcoming shores. Both bodies lay expended, entangled, satisfied.

Before Rhett decided to snatch some sleep, he kissed his beautiful, exhausted wife's forehead, and recalled the lone journey he braved to return to her that evening. There was no such encounter with a chimney sweep. He had missed the last passenger train coming out of Wales, and since it would take more than six hours to reach London, he rode his hunting horse, through wet fields, to catch up to a cargo train. Once he jumped on board, he was spotted and threatened to be thrown out on the next stop. He made mention of his experience in shoveling coal and presented an offer to take turns. The train foreman agreed, and took Rhett closer to his destination. Once he knew of her arrival, he couldn't shake the thought for one second, of her passionate pleas, hanging earnestly on to its promise. He had to have her, at least once before returning to close the business deal in Wales—the next morning.

_I'm going for two more chapters—the next will be "Lady Maria Luisa-centric" of course secondary to Scarlett-centric. Then there is one mysterious character who we'll bring back who'll be responsible for sparking jealousy from one of the two. Please review this chapter and let me know what you liked and didn't. Your reviews inspire me—love to hear from ya'll. _


	8. 7 Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful

_Thank you for your wonderful reviews for the last chapter. Now that the characters have cleaned up their act, they move on to deeper things. This chapter gets deep into Rhett's head. I had to squeeze this chapter in to explain why he needed to come to England before I begin to talk about other characters who are about to become very involved in their vacation plans. The title is taken from an age-old philosophy of aesthetics, and I also was inspired to include a famous art movement since the artist character will play an interesting part as the story unfolds. I hope you enjoy this chapter….. _

7 Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful

He would do this night after night, if he were at least ten years younger—rousing her at midnight after an exhilarating ride through the endless countryside—to make sweet, mad passionate love to her, then leap off to God knows where the wind would take him next. There was something about their lovemaking that reinvigorated his body—reversed the effects of aging, and healed places in him that had been sore for years. He appreciated the new day like an exquisite gift unraveling before him a cloudless luminescent lavender dawn. But being older meant having more obligations to fulfill, such as larger selfish desires that outweighed—in countless sums of money—the smaller, insatiable physical ones. Getting dressed stealthily, he caught happy hums of sighs coming from Scarlett in blissful slumber, and felt the sound and image to be a pleasing departing souvenir to hold him off until his return.

He made his way to the other end of the hallway, knocked quietly on the door, and in a moment, out slipped a hand holding a leather scroll holder. Rhett looked to his left and to his right making sure no one was in sight before taking the item, and placing the straps over his shoulder.

He whispered into the dark room, "Tell your painter friend, James Whistler, his West-Point classmate Rhett Butler says, Hello. Oh, and Walter, if you want to find true inspiration for your artwork, learn from someone who uses more color in his palette."

A voice from the darkness answered, "It's funny you should mention—a Mr. Degas has been inviting me to join his group in Paris. But the task at hand is of course my priority. I'll be done with the portrait upon your return."

Rhett pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and shoved it into the darkness. "Well, I'll just have to compensate you before your work soars in France, Mr. Sickert. Sounds like you'll be starting a movement."

"Thank you Mr. Butler. Thank you," the invisible figure repeated as Rhett closed the door. He had seen the man's boring paintings, was convinced that the rough sketch he commissioned him to do was already worth untold millions, and probably the poor eccentric artist's most daring work of art.

********

He had just put on his panama hat as he neared the large front doors of the manor when a voice called out to him, "Rhett?"

He turned to the huge open parlor and saw his Aunt or Tia as the Brazilian children fondly called her, up bright and early just as he was. Like a ten year old caught sneaking out to play without asking permission, he kept his head bent as he walked in.

"My Lady, good morning." He greeted her.

"Don't call me that when no one's watching. You always say it with such suspicion."

Every time her nephew laid eyes on her, it enthralled him, remembering how the much too-welcoming Brazilian women explained Lady Maria Luisa's life as one of notoriety, and redemption. His Aunt had set her sights high even when it was impossible to climb up the social ladder coming from a low, and further degraded breeding due to her bastardly origins, ostracizing her for the most part of her young adult life. They were true kindred spirits, fated to meet.

"Alright then. Good morning, Tia MaLu," Rhett redid his greeting.

"Rhett, you always know how to make me homesick. I didn't know you arrived! And leaving already?" she asked, showing her signature sneer before taking a sip of her coffee.

"To make sure my wife made it safe, and seeing that she has, I must head back." He answered.

"Did you find out anything new?" She shifted her interest to the business at hand.

"A possible location. I must say, fox hunting is certainly time-consuming. Perhaps a different breed of dogs might speed up things, like those bloodhounds back in America. They can lift a scent and track it a hundred miles away. So thorough they are, they put their nose on everything in its path," Rhett humored, as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"If you say their sense of smell is as keen as you say it is then maybe the American way of doing things might work." They shared a knowing look then changed the subject. "You know Rhett, when you returned to London to buy that atrocious engagement ring for your wife I knew she was a woman who would give you a world of trouble. And now that I've met her, I'm certain she has."

"Did she give you any trouble, Tia MaLu?"

"No. Not at all, but it follows her." She answered, with a far off look in her eyes, as if she was thinking about her past. Then she asked a more pertinent question, "Has she been worth the trouble?"

"I've been a glutton for punishment in that area. Although, it has been sweet torture, I'm finding I'm getting the deal I struck in the beginning, and the reason why I would do it all over again. Should I be concerned?" Rhett asked, his heart starting to pound.

"You should always be concerned, and not dallying off after having your way with her. She adores you, Rhett. Leaving her before she awakens—to find you gone, would be torture on her for days. She'll look for things to distract her, and the men will certainly find delight in that. You shouldn't have made your presence known until you got the job done."

"My Scarlett is a businesswoman. She thrives on hearing of new opportunities. The window of opportunity has opened on this one, for us Butlers. She'll understand. Will you make her understand? She has so much to learn from you. You two are alike more than you know. She doesn't have many friends, like you do, and she's most likely trying to avoid her only true friend, at this time. Only her Mammy has kept her in line all this time, being that her mother died before she ever gained a mature mind."

"Must be a smart woman, that Mammy." Lady Kavannaugh ascertained.

Rhett laughed, "Yes she is. She has my deepest respect. Anyone who could deal with Scarlett all those years, perhaps sees something not many people can. And the tight hold they have on each other tells you they have a special, unique bond. Oh, but Tia MaLu, you aren't going to tell everything about the business at hand are you?"

"Of course not!" She whinnied, like an excited horse. "She'll probably wring you dry of your riches if she finds out what you've gotten yourself into."

After he finished his cup of coffee, he went on his way. Down the front steps of the manor, a gentleman holding a bouquet of two dozen yellow roses asked him, "Is this the Kavannaugh Manor?"

"Yes it is." Rhett answered, "This is probably the first of many for Lady Kavannaugh today."

"I beg your pardon, sir but this bouquet is for one, Mrs. Scarlett Butler."

Rhett raced up the stairs holding the bouquet haphazardly, dropping stems strewn about along the spiraling steps. Once he reached their room, he used the same porcelain bowl Scarlett had wretched in to arrange the bouquet. He paced back and forth in a rage, and was going to throw the hand-written card at her if she hadn't made that happy, innocent-childlike sigh. The old jealous Rhett was struggling to get a grip on his thinking. He grabbed hold of her hand and forcefully kissed it hoping to cool his steaming, clouded mind. She wasn't to blame for her beauty, but he couldn't shake assorted memories stinging his mind, of the past, of her shamelessly flaunting it. That's why he needed to leave. She had gotten deep into his head, yet that was not where he felt the heaviness. He felt a tightness in his chest.

She opened her eyes, and quickly sat up. "Rhett, you're dressed. Are you leaving already?"

"Yes my dear," he answered and dropped her hand before pacing the room, "I'm returning to Wales to resume negotiations for a very important business matter. If everything goes well, I will return by Saturday."

"And if it doesn't?" Scarlett asked.

"Well, as I said, this is what I'm here for?" he answered, blandly.

"Then I'm going with you. I'll have the children and Mammy pack, so we can be together." She insisted, rising from the bed and dressing quickly.

"I'll be in the woods, Scarlett. Hunting for foxes, to appease the man I'm dealing with.

The accommodations are poor, you'll be miserable there. But I made up my mind! You're staying here with family…"

"I don't know her, and she makes me feel…"

"Put that aside, Scarlett, and stop thinking of yourself!" When she started to pout, Rhett turned away.

In such a wounded tone, she asked, "Well then why didn't you say so in the telegram to come later than sooner? I thought you needed my touch, urgently?"

He turned back to her, trying to find something else to use to make her stand down for one instance. Subjects that weighed on his heart heavily needed to be averted quickly. The last _touch_ from her lips and her words at the train station had burned deep into the core feeding into long deprived desires. That's what made it so easy to send the message, but it went against the very reason he retreated to London.

This new venture, which he rashly set out on at the height of inner resistance to those dangerous desires—his escape from insane want of her—had brought him to seek refuge in the farthest reaches of an old familiar, gracious world, packing along a determination to restore in him the dashing, vivacious impenetrable persona of his glory days when he could not be touched or harmed. In just that brief absence, it was starting to surface. Yet he could see how easily, her disorienting, innocent yet, seductive presence could cause him to abandon his effort without regret.

But he had a family in the equation now, who also tugged on his heart strings, who didn't cause such an inner turmoil like Scarlett always did, but held him down like an anchor of stability. He suddenly felt oddly complacent. But when conjuring up Scarlett's wild passion, it invaded his mind like the plague, and there was a restlessness he couldn't explain. She deserved to see him at his best, to acquire grander things, and he was daring and foolhardy in love to do it. He had to go and finish what he started. He re-interpreted what he meant in the telegram, hoping he could temper these intoxicating moments with a sobering fact that their bond included three children whose welfare he strived to look well after.

"When I saw you in the carriage with Bonnie—you were amazing! You had a way with her. It was a mother's touch, I needed. She was becoming more and more unruly on the train. I sent you the telegram once we reached New York. Lady Kavannaugh's maids wouldn't be able to control her. I told Bonnie if she was good you would come, and for the most part she was controllable."

There was a confused look in her eyes that soon turned into darkness. "You mean to tell me Rhett that you led me on? It wasn't you who needed me?"

The dark storm in her eyes dissipated, blown apart by an updraft known too well by her as Rhett's laughter. He asked in a light tone, "Are you telling me, if I said I needed a mother's touch, you wouldn't have come?"

She was huffing and puffing, and had not answered him. She turned away, folding her hands and finally answered, "I still would have. I wouldn't deny my daughter."

She was not going to let Rhett have the upper hand with this one, it being so early in the morning for her to think straight, and to curb her bad tempestuous habit. She faced him again with a smile and said,

"I wouldn't deny myself, either," fluttering her lashes at him, "….the way we made amends back in Atlanta…." She walked over to Rhett, who held her shoulders, keeping her at arms length.

She continued on, "It was worth being overcome by the treacherous waves at the end of this long voyage to get caught up in your wave of passion last night. How swept away I was." He was suddenly taken by the lightness she maintained employing girlish charms, and playful green eyes, and spoke with a freedom that was both refreshing and carefree. He ran kisses down her arms as she purred, "The trip here has opened new possibilities for us…meeting new and interesting people."

All of a sudden, he stopped, and released her hand. Scarlett met his furrowed brows as he lifted his head. This was the reason he would never rest easy having a woman like her. She wasn't a woman you could win as a prize and leave on the top part of the shelf to collect dust, or usher the guest towards eliciting feign admiration. She was like a sparkling jewel that needed to be guarded at all times from the craftiest of thieves scheming to steal her in a mere blink of an eye. He agreed, "Yes, I see you didn't waste time in making new important friends," pointing to the porcelain bowl.

Scarlett was guilt-ridden, and dared not approach the immense bouquet. "Do you have any idea who sent it?" he asked accusingly. "All I have to say is that I've outdone myself, my pet! I have secured in my possession a highly coveted piece of fine flesh that even royalty is seeking to have with her an audience."

"Royalty? The prince?" she asked, the brightness flashed from her eyes for the first time this morning, watching Rhett grab the card. "What does it say? Oh Rhett! That's my card!" She traced a circle around him as he eluded her. He lifted both his elbows to shield himself from her scraping reach and read the message in a melodramatic manner.

"I thought it only happened in fairy tales when a prince rescued the most beautiful damsel in distress."

Rhett laughed loudly at the cliché, while Scarlett clasping her hands, reeled, realizing who her savior was at the docks.

"It was him, who carr—, er uh, who helped me to the carriage!"

How wise it was of her to refrain from mentioning a few details, how much more helpful the prince's large, warm and cozy body was as she cuddled against it in the carriage. Asking in disbelief, "Did he actually write that?"

"Unfortunately." Rhett replied, wiggling his eyebrows. "Now let me finish. A'hem!

May I pay a call to see how you are faring? Always at your service, Prince Juan Pablo Alfonso de Borbon. P.S. Send you regards to your husband, Mr. Butler. He is a lucky man."

"Now you're making up that part." Scarlett giggled, and slapped him on the arm.

"I'm afraid not." She managed to swipe the card away from him to read it herself. Afterwards, she pressed it against her bosom. Rhett read every word, and as she danced around him, he deduced with relief that his nocturnal appearance was not entirely responsible for her nausea.

He reached for his Panama hat and tipped it, bowing out gracefully. "I guess that is the distraction you need while I'm away. I can't take you anywhere…"

She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck, "Oh Rhett, don't be silly. You know I only stick to my kind." Her voice was deep and deeper was her kiss which was the reassurance he needed. After some time, they both parted for air and Rhett unlocked the arms snaked around his neck.

"I must go now, before I miss my train again," he whispered and kissed her scrunched up forehead as she asked, "Again?"

Before closing the door, he turned to her with pained eyes, "Be good, Scarlett. I—I.. ….I'm glad you came to London."

She opened the door and ran after him. "Oh Rhett!"

If Scarlett gave him one more kiss, Rhett knew his diminishing resolve would tumble down the stairs and lay as scattered as the strewn wilted flowers, but she nudged his hand, instead. "You forgot this."

He looked at the leather tube—the scroll holder—took it and found himself coming to life again. Like a charge was released from the container, or it seemed he had spotted something over its exterior he hadn't noticed before, keeping his eyes locked on it. He looked at her, but as if through her, and began to bare his heart.

"My life has been a whirlwind of many adventures, countless mishaps, close encounters, narrow escapes, and glorious triumphs! But there has come a point in time, where I can look back and pick out one—this moment to be exact—you here with me—even as I set out into the world to stake out more of its unyielding resources and appeal—I find this moment to be of the sublime. The greatest adventure of my life—is you."

She was speechless. Rhett trotted down the stairs out of her sight before she found a voice to repeat his words. Time moved slowly, she grudgingly noticed, in her room where the morning light still hadn't broken out completely. She held up her hand with the card still clutched in it, and felt somewhat comforted with the thought,

"_At least I could expect shameless flattery by allowing a prince to fill the gaps in the absence of my mighty Warrior-King of a husband who must not only strive to conquer me, but the rest of the world."_

She laughed at the nickname she gave her virile, overheated husband. What a strategic move it was for him to elevate her to the highest of heights in all the conquests of his life. It worked, regarding Scarlett as his epitomization of the aesthetics, the philosophical idea he had learned and realized so profound—referring to a greatness with which nothing else can be compared and which is beyond all possibility of calculation, measurement or imitation—like their intertwining dark history binding them into one sinuous permanent strand. No other man could earn this superlative title, and every man appeared common in her eyes—even the man she wrote in reply to accept his call.

_I hope you like this tender family-oriented moment. But hold on. There will be trouble at the Kavannaugh Manor, and more than chimneys will be steaming around London. Who do you think will be responsible? Please review!_


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